


Shy Away, Phantom

by wings_simulacrum



Series: Step Into the Future [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 12 Step Programs, Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referened Prostitution, M/M, More characters and tags added in later chapters, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, i'm calling it the not-pocalypse, the Hargreeves standard trauma tags, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17917451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings_simulacrum/pseuds/wings_simulacrum
Summary: Klaus had been living with drugs and alcohol for longer than he'd been living without them. Tipping his scales in the other direction was going to be a hell of a bad time.But then again, how would that be any different? The Old Man wouldn't have been proud, but he'd have disapproved less, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song A Stranger by A Perfect Circle.

  1. _We admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable._



Klaus doesn't fully get sober in the days immediately preceding and following the apocalypse. It doesn't help that there _is_ no apocalypse, that he and Diego and Allison had turned against Luther and let Vanya out of her captivity as soon as the man had turned his back. No apocalypse meant no death, meant no freedom from the painful temptation that runs under his skin any time he stops moving long enough to think. In AA, they have a word for when you quit drinking without going to meetings or starting the steps – dry. Not getting sober. Not recovering. Not getting ‘clean’ – though Klaus has never seen himself as ‘dirty’ at any point, either. Being dry. Klaus is dry, and damn if he isn't fucking parched, too. His siblings had been nice enough to remove all the alcohol from the house, but Klaus still finds himself thinking about it at every chance.

“Maybe you should really give it a try, this time?” It was the sort of reasonable advice Klaus would have expected from Ben, but Vanya’s voice is soft in the darkness. Klaus was tossing and turning on the luxurious couch in Father’s great room, so he hadn’t heard her approach. Vanya had always been quiet, sneaky like that. Now, Klaus wonders if it were less her ability to sneak and more Father’s conditioning for them to ignore her.

Give it a try? What had Klaus’s last nine stints in Rehab been, then? Sitting through those stupid group meetings, listening to everyone talk about their pathetic lives and keeping his own pathetic life carefully locked behind cruel lips – hadn’t that been trying? How many times had Klaus dutifully showed up to group, dropped a few dollars in the donation basket, and patiently waited to the end to receive his signed slip? Doesn’t it fucking count as _trying_ if you sit there, tuning out the words and just waiting for it to be – oh. No. No, he realizes. It doesn’t.

This is the worst part about having the drugs out of his system, Klaus decides. The painful weight of reality pressing on the borders of his brain without an escape.

“I want to say that I _have,_ dear sister, but…” Klaus exhales heavily and settles on his back. The moon shining in through the mansion’s windows illuminates the hint of Vanya in the doorway.

“Why haven’t you?” Oh, Vanya. Even when she didn’t have powers, she’d always been so sharp, always known the right questions. She’d seen everything, from her silent corner of the family. And she's right. Why hasn't he? At first, it had been that drugs were the only thing standing between Klaus and the ghosts that hoovered over him in the night, clung to the corners of his sight during the day. At 14, Klaus had his first experience with alcohol. It was over, after that – he spent every moment he could chasing the moments of sweet, sweet freedom he could pull from the bottom of a bottle. Or a syringe. Or a miniscule tab under his tongue. It had started as that escape, but it hadn’t ended there.

As much as Klaus depended on the looseness in his skull that drugs and alcohol provided, he grew to hate it. The way it felt like a thin layer of film over the rest of the world that he couldn’t quite keep his grip on, it terrified him. But the only thing more terrifying than the loss of control that came with being high is the loss of control that surely waited around the corner for when he got sober again. Maybe his drug habit had begun as a method of escape, but his addiction feels less like fleeing these days and more like hiding. Klaus knows he has to quit, but his body depends on the presence of extra substances and his mind is a screaming mausoleum without it.

“Klaus?” He almost forgot that Vanya was there. Klaus sits up, lounging against one arm of the couch.

“It’s not like I came home to find out I was all out of drugs one day and just moved on with my life.” That's cruel, he knows, too cruel. Vanya’s own medication should be off-limits, but this is the Hargreeves family. Who would he be if he didn’t fucking suck every now and then? And who is he kidding, he sucks pretty much all the time. “I’m sorry,” he promises to Vanya’s silence. “That wasn’t fair.”

“When we were kids, you were never mean to me.” Vanya’s voice isn't angry, and that hits Klaus like a punch in the gut. She was always so soft, never harsh, even when she had every right to be. “I always liked that about you.” Vanya’s silhouette takes a few steps into the room until Klaus can see her eyes. Sincere. Christ, he doesn't deserve an ounce of her in his life.

“Yeah, well, now that I’m a prick like all Hargreeves boys, there’s not much to like.”

“I don’t think you’re a prick, Klaus.” She moves further into the room an rests a hand on his where it hangs off the edge of the couch. “I think you’re struggling.”

“Aren’t we all? Dear old Daddy may as well have raised us Catholic, for all the repression and guilt in this household.”

“Dad didn’t make you start doing drugs,” Vanya says. The _not like he did for me_ is silent, but Klaus hears it loud as a ghost. “And he didn’t make you – make _us_ keep taking them, either.” 

Before Klaus can answer why he hasn't earnestly tried to quit, he'll have to figure out why he’s held on to the addiction so tightly in the first place. Except, Klaus doesn't have to think about it. He’s put more work into forgetting the answer than he’d ever put into figuring it out in the first place, his first time through rehab when he thought he could make it. Just like Dad had said, he must become the master of his own life.

Klaus knows he's not the master of his own life. Not before he started with the drugs, not during, and not in these few days since the not-pocalypse where he’s managed to stay sober. No, he’d willingly handed his control over to the pills and the drinks and the needles, whatever he could get his desperate and shaking hands on. And then, before he knew it, Klaus wasn’t willingly giving control. He had none at all, and every day without the vice was hell. Klaus lets out a shaking breath, and Vanya squeezes his hand.

“Would it help you to say it out loud?”

“Do I have to?” Where was Ben? Why couldn’t he just say it to Ben instead, who could never tell anyone else?

“No, you don’t. But I’m here for you, no matter what.” Father had never taught Vanya to be this kind. None of the other six had shown her this, either. Klaus wondered where she’d learned how to love someone, seeing as no one had ever had the decency to love her in the first place.

“Hell, may as well speak it out loud for the drama of it all.” Her soft amused exhale answers him in the moonlight. “I’m not in control anymore.” Somehow, more words sprang to his lips unbidden, but Klaus keeps his mouth shut. No need to whine about his circumstances to someone who already knows, right?

“You’re not alone anymore, either,” Vanya promises. Klaus believes her.


	2. Chapter 2

  1. _We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity._



Klaus is more than familiar with the 12 steps, and he always starts his sarcastic chuckle with number two. Can anything restore him to sanity? Besides, he’d met a Higher Power already, and that kid wasn’t any help. She already sent him running straight into the cutting words of his Father, instead of Dave’s embrace. Outside of that girlie, Klaus had enough powers greater than himself in his life and each and every one of them drove him crazy in their own special way. Isn’t that what siblings are for? Still, when it had mattered, they’d all managed to hold together just long enough to prevent (delay?) the end of the world – so that had been pretty alright. Hadn’t done wonders for his mental state, though.

No, Klaus thinks for the first week he goes to meetings, I’m not sure about this higher power thing. He's doing the 30 in 30 challenge and it's already wearing on his nerves. It's been a pain since day one, but Ben had given him a look that Klaus couldn’t refuse. 30 meetings in 30 days? Fuck it, why not? What’s an hour every day for the next month of a life where he had absolutely nothing in front of him, right? Klaus had time to spare. All the time in the world, now. He takes another drag from his cigarette, perched on the hood of a car that isn't his in the parking lot of a church he'll never attend. Gotta love how involved churches got in addiction, huh? Someone who wasn’t Ben (or Dave, dammit,) sidles into Klaus’s peripheral vision. He’d seen him in the meeting, had done a double take before dutifully turning his gaze back to the podium at the front of the room. Diego seems twice as tense out here as he’d seemed when their eyes met in the meeting.

“You never said anything,” Klaus offers. Diego doesn't meet his eyes this time, just stares like his glare isenough to wilt the landscaping at the café across the street.

“You never asked about it.”

“Well, I am self-centered like that.” Klaus doesn't bother putting any venom behind his words. Diego will understand.

“Aren’t we all, in our own ways?” He's right. Klaus puts his cigarette back to his lips and crowds his lungs with bitterness. “Can I ask you about it?” Why the hell not?

“Why the hell not?”

“Where are you stuck?”

Klaus barks a laugh. Of course Diego would know that Klaus doesn’t glide along in life with everyone else, especially when it comes to shit like this. Diego must have known from the second he saw Klaus in that meeting that his brother is struggling with the process. After all, what doesn't Klaus struggle with?

“I’ll tell you what,” Diego’s voice is more open than Klaus ever remembers hearing it. “I’ve been working on this for two years now. Step 8 is where I’ve been stalled for the last six months.”

“Why? The list of people you’ve wronged got too long to remember?” Diego huffs in amusement at that.

“Nah, I’m stuck on the second half.” It's telling enough. Klaus relents.

“I can’t get past the second step.”

“Yeah, I could see you getting hung up there.”

“Did I ever tell you that I met God? Or… whoever?” Klaus’s cigarette dies at the filter, and he looks at it in disappointment. Diego gives him a searching gaze. “Yeah, she’s not going to be any help in this.”

For a long while, there's just silence between the two. Everyone else from the meeting had gone, now, having packed away their cheap coffee and their box of tokens and their booklets. The church is locked up, but Diego and Klaus stayed, cold under early April sun.

“Wanna hear something that sounds dumb?”

“Diego, you know I _always_ look forward to you making a fool of yourself.”

“For the first year I was sober, my Higher Power was a character from a movie.” That takes Klaus a moment to process. He can just pick whoever?

“Let me guess, The Dude? That movie always seemed your speed.”

“Fuck you, no.”

“Who was it?”

“None of your business. The point is,” for the first time since they’d spotted each other in the meeting, Diego meets Klaus’s eyes, “your higher power can be whatever. You met God and she’s an asshole? Fine. But there are so many things in the world that are bigger than just you. You’re not limited to just one, Klaus. Just find the first one that works for you, and go from there. Don’t make it any harder than it already is.” Diego plucks the spent cigarette from Klaus’s stunned fingers and stalks off, dumping it in a publish ash tray as he goes. Klaus stares until Diego disappears around a corner, then stares some more.

Well, that's a thought.

The Creator sure as hell isn't someone he wants to depend on for sanity. But then, who is? Klaus never felt more grounded than he did around Ben, around Dave’s sporadic appearances, but seeing ghosts couldn’t be a path to sanity, could it? They both had such loving advice, though, both treated him with kindness and listened even when the others didn’t. If sanity and serenity are at all connected, well, Klaus has to admit that being with them does provide him some serenity.

His abilities have to be bigger than himself, Klaus knew. All of his siblings have some sort of power, as did 30-something other strangers out in the world that he knew nothing about. They're all connected in some way, and that connection is certainly something beyond Klaus and his uncanny connection to the dead. Yeah, he thinks. His powers are bigger than himself. In some ways, they do seem to restore him to sanity – at the very least, they restored his relationships with Ben and Dave, and those relationships are a big part of maintaining sanity. Maybe it isn't so far-fetched after all.

“Hey,” a new voice interrupts his thoughts. Klaus turns to see a young woman standing by the driver’s-side door of the car he's leaning on. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” She looks defensive, and he can't blame her. Some strange, funny-looking dude leaning on her car, staring into space? It isn't encouraging.

“Right, of course,” he gives her his most charming smile and steps back. It doesn't help. It never does. She unlocks the door, slides into the car, and Klaus hears the distinctive _clunk_ of the door’s locking mechanism once she's inside. That's fair.

Klaus fishes a half-empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shoves another in his mouth, turning down the sidewalk directly opposite of the way Diego had gone. He has plenty to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

  1. _We made a decision to turn our lives and our will over to the care of God as we understood her._



“Uuuuugh, come on,” Klaus groans, coated in a layer of sweat behind a closed bedroom door. His hands glow the faintest of blues, and a hint of Dave shimmers in his room. Klaus isn't able to see Dave like he is Ben – he suspects it has something to do with the fact that despite their 10 month romance, Dave had technically died long before Klaus was even born. Here in the 21st century, Dave is almost a lifetime away from him, even if it only seems like months since the night he’d reached out only to feel Dave roll limply in his hands.

“You’re definitely making improvements,” Ben says. “Even I could see him this time.”

“The problem isn’t seeing him, it’s keeping him,” Klaus moans, throwing himself back on his bed. A long skirt swishes around his ankles and Dave’s dog tags clink on his chest when he lands. “This is harder than keeping hard with beer dick.”

“Charming, Klaus.” Ben rolls his eyes.

“What? You have a better comparison?”

“You’re only struggling so much because you haven’t practiced.”

“Yeah, and because I feel like my brain is going to _explode_.” Klaus lazily tips his head to look at Ben. “I’ve been out of the pink cloud since Tuesday and life is hell again.”

“Maybe you should call someone.”

“Oh, yeah? Who should I call? No one wants to listen to me bitch about how much I miss opiates. Luther’s still going to judge me, Diego’s got his own shit, Allison is off having a custody battle. I’m me, Five is an asshole, you’re dead, and Vanya’s off doing God-knows-what. I don’t have anyone else.” It's whiny, Klaus knows, but hey. He’s quitting a lifetime of drugs, a little whining here and there is understandable.

“Why don’t you call your sponsor?”

Klaus flips off the empty air where only he can see Ben. His brother knows damn well that he doesn't have one yet, that Klaus has been putting it off for as long as possible. It's early May and he’d gotten his 30-day chip almost a week ago. In the past, he’d promptly disposed of his 30 day chips the moment they let him out of inpatient and gone on another bender. It was rougher, the first few times after getting out, his tolerance weakened by the long dry spell and his cravings only ever more intense. These 36 days are the longest he’s been sober since before he started.

It fucking sucks.

“Klaus.”

“If I close my eyes and sing really loudly, will you leave me alone about it?”

“Klaus.” Ben holds up his last three fingers, index and thumb curled together.

Goddammit, Ben. He can say everything he means to without speaking a word and it's a pain in Klaus’s ass. Klaus stares at Ben for a second, a silent battle of wills that he doesn't even intend on trying to win.

“Fuck, fine.” He rolls off the bed and onto his feet, grabbing the nearest shirt and doesn't even bother with a smell-test. This whole Higher Power thing sucks, it sucksbad, but it isn't as bad as things had been. Anyways, Klaus had committed to this. Every time he works with his powers further, he feels a greater level of control over his life, his cravings, his surroundings. He remembered the freedom from control that drugs had given him – like being on a water slide with a million curves that went on forever until it wasn’t fun anymore, he was just doing his best to keep from sliding over the edge into an abyss.

Turning his will over to his Higher Power looks a lot like one of Klaus’s least favorite childhood memories, but this time with 100% less Dad. And he only does it in the daytime.

Klaus takes a taxi to the nearest graveyard. He’s been frequenting this one for a few weeks, and it's so massive he's more likely to get kicked out before he gets through everyone. It looks a lot more crowded to him than it does to anyone else wandering, and most people stand by one grave in solitude while Klaus wanders from headstone to headstone like a bee in search of pollen. From his current vantage point under an old oak, Klaus watches a woman stand above one headstone, shoulders shaking with grief. Next to this woman, unseen, is another woman of the same age – and she's wailing. Even from this distance, Klaus can see that the woman had been in poor shape when she’d passed, completely emaciated.

Slowly, Klaus meanders in their direction, careful to keep out of earshot of the living woman. Speaking or crying, he doesn't have a right to intrude on that. When she’s left and her blue sedan is out of sight, Klaus approaches the weeping woman.

“Hello?” She looks at him with wide eyes when he speaks. “Hi, there. My name is Klaus.”

“You can see me.” She says it with quiet amazement, then her eyes light up. “You can see me! How- how is that possible?”

“It’s… a long story.” And it’s not what Klaus is here to think about. “What’s your name?”

“Aubrey.”

“Why were you crying, Aubrey?” All the joy drains from her face.

“It’s my sister,” she admits. “I just wanted to tell her how sorry I am, but I can’t. I know it broke her heart and I didn’t mean to die, I didn’t mean to hurt her, it just… it all got so out of control.” She's crying again, and Klaus feels the strangest urge to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It would only pass through, he knows. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. Klaus doesn't intimately know how this woman felt, but she reminds him a lot of Vanya. There are just so many ways to hurt the ones you love.

“How did it happen?”

“Can you do me a favor?” Aubrey breezes past his question, her voice thick with emotion, and Klaus doesn't push. He’d been practicing that, lately, much to the pleasure of anyone and everyone around him. “My sister, she lives on the west end of town. If I give you her address, could you- could you drop something off at her place? On our birthdays, we used to exchange a jar of pickles. As an inside joke.” Aubrey fidgets with her sleeves for a moment. “Today’s my birthday.” Klaus looks at Ben, and Ben shrugs.

“Turn your will over to the higher power, buddy. Death is the highest power of all.”

Klaus doesn’t think that spending his life helping the dead rest is the worst use he could make of his powers.


	4. Chapter 4

  1. _We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves_



“I have to say, Klaus, it’s not like you to ask for help. For a minute I wondered if maybe someone was possessing your body.” Five is a smarmy shit, but that’s exactly why Klaus came to him for this. Five won’t let him get away with anything. Neither would Luther, but hey, Five is more fun.

“Yeah, well,” Klaus waves a loose wrist in Five’s direction, “I’m possessed by the spirit of sobriety and all that good stuff. Daddy would be so proud.”

“So.” Five takes another sip of coffee and sets the mug down gently. “How can I help you, dear brother?”

Klaus chews on a thumb nail for a second, considering Five carefully.

“So, there are these steps that people take. You know, when getting sober.”

“Twelve of them. I’m aware.” Five eyes him steadily and lifts the mug back up to his mouth.

“Right! See, we’re already off to a good start.” Klaus plants himself backwards on a chair, leaning over its back and giving Five his most winning grin. “And step four is to make a ‘searching and fearless moral inventory’ of myself, so I was thinking-”

“No.” Five’s answer is flat.

“Come on! I’m offering you first dibs at giving me the savage dressing-down that every other Hargreeves sibling would die for. Who could say no to that?”

“I can. No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Klaus, I’m not going to do your homework for you. You’re asking me because you’re too lazy and cowardly to do it yourself, so. No.”

Klaus pulls a small spiral notepad from the comically large pockets of his new coat, as well as a new pen. He opens it to a clean page and scribbles something.

“Lazy and cowardly, you say?” Klaus speaks with his best Reginald Hargreeves impression and Five fails to hide his hint of a smile behind the mug.

“I guess you’re clever enough to make up for it.” At that, Klaus waves a dismissive hand and continues to fix his brother with an expectant smile. “Well, go on. Add that to your list.”

“Add..?”

“Clever. Add ‘dense’ while you’re at it, too.”

“Ah, dense, I can work with that.”

“No, Klaus, you’re missing one.”

“Five, it’s an inventory-”

“I’m well aware. Now, as far as I can recall, step four isn’t to make a searching and fearless inventory of faults, exclusively.” Five uses his ‘why is everyone around me so stupid’ voice, and Klaus finds himself glad to hear it. In the nearly seventeen years that they’d been apart, he’d forgotten what it sounded like when someone wasn’t shy about being the smartest person in the room. Hearing Five’s condescending tone again was a sweet fucking relief. Everything about Five being here was a sweet fucking relief.

When Five had first fallen out of the sky and into the courtyard, Klaus was seized by the terrifying possibility that no one else could see him. That Five was, finally, dead like Ben. Klaus still found himself absent-mindedly ruffling Five’s hair every now and then, just to be sure he was still real.

“You’ve always been so smart, Five.” He smiles and adds a second column, starting with ‘clever’. “Such a shame my shit genetics blessed me with an inclination towards addiction and not towards living, functioning brain cells.”

“Klaus, something tells me that you don’t _really_ need me to help you inventory your flaws. You seem well-enough aware. Why are you here?”

“What, I can’t get some sweet bonding time with my youngest older brother?”

Five smiles at him with a knowing smile and Klaus is suddenly, intensely reminded that the body of a thirteen-year-old in front of him houses the knowledge and experience of a fifty-eight-year-old man. He has to wonder what it was like – it must have been terrifying and upsetting for Five to live his whole life and then in a heartbeat lose it all. His training and memories, sure, they were still intact. But Klaus would probably lose his mind if he woke up one morning and he didn’t even have armpit hair yet. And the time travel? Well, Klaus knew how disorienting that could be. There’s no way Five could just be _fine_.

“It’s very considerate of you, Klaus. Thank you.”

“Considerate? _Moi?_ ” Klaus mocks surprise. “Brother, surely all that time traveling has addled your brain. Are you sure you’re okay?” Five sees through the light tone to the heart of the question easily. That was one of the best parts of being a Hargreeves kid – fucked up as they all may be, they all speak the same language, same all the way down to the things they don’t say.

“I suspect no one can travel through time without paying some sort of high price.” Five fiddles with his now-empty mug. _So we’re not pretending anymore, then._

“Do you want to talk about it?” Say what you will about him, but even Klaus knows when it's time to cut the shit, sometimes. Straight to business it is.

“Do you?” Their mutual ‘no’ hangs silent between the two. It’s a solid minute or more before Five speaks again. “Am I right in suspecting that you met someone, back then?”

Klaus can’t help but bring Dave’s beautiful eyes to mind. His soft hair, his warm, safe embrace. Dave’s forgiving smile could bring Klaus to his knees in an instant – an unconditional love that he’d been so deprived of in his youth. It felt like touching God. No, it felt better than touching God. God hadn’t been all that great or helpful at all.

“His name was Dave,” Klaus offers. Five looks unsurprised at the admission. Then again, what part about Klaus had _ever_ looked heterosexual?

“Was he good to you?”

“Yes.”

“Were you good to him?”

“As best as I could be.” Klaus feels his face flush. Dave was the first person who ever made him want to be _better_ , and even after his death, that urge had remained. Crouched over a toilet, grief-sick and dumping the last of his pills down the toilet, Klaus had realized something. Dave had always believed that Klaus could be better, but he’d always believed that Klaus deserved better, too. It wasn’t just about Dave’s love for him, anymore, but that’s where it all started.

“Klaus?” Five gives him a pondering look from across the table.

“Yes, brother dearest?”

“You’re a good man.”

Klaus remembers to write that one down.


	5. Chapter 5

  1. _We admitted to God, ourselves, and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs._



“Ugh, I don’t want to do this,” Klaus moans into his smoothie. “Why do I have to do this?”

“You don’t _have_ to. If you’d like, you could go back to alternately feeling nothing and feeling like shit until your heart gives out,” his sponsor responds. That was the great part about sober people, Klaus had decided. They just say what they mean and never gave a shit. They're usually right, too. He’d used to think it was all the drugs that made people like that, but upon further experience had decided that no, it was the harsh and unforgiving climb to sobriety. Who has enough energy to beat around the bush after that?

Whatever it is, Klaus knows he isn’t there yet.

“Yeah, but-”

“No ‘buts’, Klaus. Figure out why you _do_ want to do this. Or, do it even if you don’t want to. Or, fuck, skip a step. They’re really not supposed to be _a la carte_ , but no one can force _you_ to do anything you don’t want to.” She takes a long pull from the straw in her own smoothie. August is shaping up to be gorgeous.

“Honestly, Katie, seeing God again is the _last_ thing I want to do.” Katie, like everyone else in Klaus’s life that wasn’t a sibling, had simply accepted statements like that as another one of his eccentricities. Klaus feels a giggle bubble up in his throat and suppresses it, barely.

“You don’t have to physically see God to tell him how you fucked up.”

“Her. God is a her.”

“How very forward thinking of you.”

“Not really.” Klaus pouts at her, then at his smoothie, then at the Green Peace canvasser across the street. He sometimes can’t tell if canvassers like that are alive or dead, either way, they’re all trapped in a special kind of hell. No matter how hard they try, no one looks at them or listens to their voice. No wonder the dead are so fucking grumpy.

“People don’t literally _see_ God, Klaus. It’s… figurative.” Katie tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and rubs a thumb along her strong jawline contemplatively.

“Lucky them,” he mutters under his breath. Then, louder, “I’m not particularly thrilled to have an audience for this one.”

“Klaus,” she leans forward earnestly. “You’re not alone in that. Nobody likes to open up about all the things they’ve done wrong in the past. It’s embarrassing.” Klaus isn’t quite convinced that he’s worried about being embarrassed. After all, hadn’t he spent most of his life being humiliated in one way or another? Whether it be failing to measure of up Number One and Number Two to the first time Daddy Hargreeves found him strung out in bed on a Tuesday morning, Klaus was no stranger to the feeling. He’d been racking up moments for his cringe compilation like it was going out of style for the last two decades.

“No, I’m not scared to live up to my position of family embarrassment, it’s just…” He trails off, unable to find words for the feeling that curls around his throat.

“You’re scared of something, Klaus.” No denying that. “Get it together, and don’t forget to keep coming to meetings.” Katie gives him a tiny smile, stands, and dumps her empty smoothie cup before disappearing around a corner. God, he loves her.

Klaus bums a ride home off Diego. They’d had an unspoken agreement to try not to run into each other at meetings, which isn’t hard. This city is packed full of addicts, packed full of recovering addicts. Now that he knows where to look, Klaus feels like he can’t throw a stone without knocking over the coffee pot in a meeting. Even when the two of them are avoiding each other, they’re never far away.

Neither one talks about their meetings on rides home like this, though. Usually, Diego talks about whatever new crime-fighting scheme he’s been on or Klaus rambles on about – well, about whatever’s on his mind that day. Ben has more to say these days, and Klaus is happy to play messenger so that Diego can start to rebuild a relationship with his late brother. It's too much energy to summon Ben's corporeal form every time, so it feels a lot like playing telephone.

Today, they’re just quiet.

Klaus beelines for the stairs when they get home, knocking quietly on the door of Allison’s room. She’d lost her custody appeal weeks ago and had come home with a brave face. Now that Klaus knew why she’d lost, though, he knows she's the only one he can tell. Allison, surely, knows the gut-sick shame that he feels. But she also knows what it feels like to be seen, completely seen, in all the ways you've ever feared you could be. Klaus may have a penchant for making himself the center of attention, but he never sits still long enough for anyone to _really_ get a good look at him.

“What is it?” Her voice is subdued and still raspy from the wound, but Klaus hears her clearly through the door ajar.

“I’ve come to offer my company,” Klaus warbles. Without waiting for her response, he pushes through the doorway and into her room, arms wide in a grand gesture. “You should only accept the finest, most enjoyable sibling bonding moments.”

“Yet, here you are.” She smiles at him as she says it and makes room for him on her bed, patting the spot next to her. Klaus ignores the invitation and flings himself across 3/4ths of the bed, arms wide. Allison scoots into the space he left for her and giggles a little. That’s the sound he was looking for.

Hargreeves sibling relationships have begun to improve since the not-pocalypse, but he and Allison had never felt too strained in the first place. She knew what he was like and loved him anyways. He knew she was safe. The drugs and everything after had put some distance between them, but Klaus has always been her brother. Even when he asked for another autograph and she _knew_ he’d sell it for his next fix.

“I…” Klaus fixes her with a dramatic stare. “I would like to let you in on a little secret.”

“Oh?” She raises one eyebrow to match his gaze.

“I’ve been working on a new power, recently.” Klaus levers himself up until he’s resting on one elbow, curved around where she sits on the bed so that she only has to turn a little to see him. Those words catch her attention.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Klaus’s smirk gives away the game.

“Say more,” she leans in, one corner of her mouth curling upwards.

“I’ve been practicing… being serious.”

Allison laughs a full laugh this time, pushing Klaus off balance until his back hits the mattress, and Klaus quietly congratulates himself on the accomplishment.

“Klaus, honey, I wouldn’t have known. Maybe you need to practice a little more?”

And see, this is where it would come in handy to be one of those people who doesn’t need to beat around the bush. Klaus has gotten this far, and now he’s got to find a way to turn this conversation into one where he tells her things he doesn’t want to tell anyone. He should have just led with the worst shit, really. He squints up at her.

“Maybe you can help?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes a little more in-depth with the description of Klaus's addiction and the way he experiences cravings. If that's something that might be triggering to you, please be aware.

  1. _We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character._



Klaus hasn’t touched drink nor drug in almost six months, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t suffering. Sometimes, he thinks, it gets worse with time – like all the normies say, it gets worse before it gets better. Well, better can come any day now. Better could have come six hours ago before his shakes and fever and that would have been just fine. Ben isn’t around, the bastard, but at least there’s no one to witness Klaus’s misery.

“No, nononono,” Klaus curls up under a light sheet, hands fisted in the soft cotton and pressed to his face. The ghosts are loud, those haunting specters from the mausoleum, but now Klaus knows they aren’t really there. They don’t look or act like real ghosts, no, they’re just the remnants of childhood trauma clinging to the edge of his consciousness like a ring of filth in the tub. It’s just that, without his vices, Klaus isn’t quite sure how to scrub them out. It’s so loud inside his head, he thinks it’ll give him a migraine.

The nearest liquor store is two blocks north and one block east from the front door, they sell Burnett’s for $7, and Klaus knows he’s got a $20 in his pocket. His favorite dealer is too far to walk in this state, but Jake is a short cab ride away and surely some of Dad’s stuff is still around, Klaus could stop at a pawn shop on the way. He plays the routes over and over in his head as if they’re enough to drown out the voices, but they’re not.

“I don’t want it,” he whispers to himself. “I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.” The worst part is that Klaus isn’t even sure if that’s the truth. He wants – something. He wants to be free of this and he wants a million dollars and all the oxy he can buy. He wants to never have gotten himself here in the first place, and he wants to dig himself deeper and deeper into the hole. Whatever rock bottom is, a part of Klaus wants to dig a new one. The ghosts and the cravings are fighting for first chair in his brain and Klaus wants to carve the whole damn thing out with a spoon.

He knows he can’t defeat both of them. All he knows is that for more than half of his life, he’s given himself over to one in order to defeat the other – if only for a while. It’s a tried and true method.

Klaus pulls himself out of bed and grabs the shirt nearest him. He already knows it’s clean, and wow, sobriety is a hell of a drug in its own right. It only takes him a moment to slip on socks and shoes and tiptoe down the stairs, but it takes him much longer to step out onto the street. He stands with one hand on the gate and breathes the September air deeply. Over and over, feet planted firmly on the ground, waiting. Klaus knows he can make himself do this, if only he puts his mind to it. He pushes the gate open, wraps his arms around himself tightly, and heads down the street.

“Klaus.”

Luther is the last person he needs on his case right now. Klaus hops the fence to his left because, hey, shortcuts, and cuts across the trimmed grass. He’s careful not to look too closely at any of the headstones as he weaves around them, heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he barely hears Luther following. Almost there. Almost there.

“Klaus!” Luther’s hand lands heavily on Klaus’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” Klaus does his best to shrug off his brother’s grip, but Luther isn’t letting go. The larger man spins him around and pushes Klaus against the nearest wall – the mausoleum wall.

“Taking a walk, bro, what does it look like?” The noise inside his head is louder, now, but Klaus does his level best to look Luther in the eyes. He’s pretty sure he’s doing it, but then Klaus finds himself staring at the sky.

“It looks like you’re running off to get high, Klaus.” Luther shakes his shoulder roughly.

“I’m not-” This time, Klaus meet’s Luther’s gaze. He points a finger in Luther’s face, a little too close for comfort, but it gets his brother to lean back just enough. “I’m not doing that anymore. I don’t do that. Jesus, Luther, you never could see my efforts for what-”

“Well, you-”

“No! You never believed in me, Luther. I could conjure Mother-fucking Theresa as a character witness and you’d still think it’s all to get my next fix. Fuck you.” Klaus shoves at Luther’s shoulders. He doesn't have the strength to overpower his brother by any means, but Luther steps back anyways. The two stand there, Klaus breathing heavily and Luther watching in silence, for longer than is comfortable.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well,” Luther shrugs, “go ahead and do whatever you’re doing, then.”

“Can’t a guy have a little privacy?”

“See, Klaus, shit like that is why I’m worried about you. You’re shaky and sweaty, you can’t focus, and you’re hiding out in some graveyard looking to be alone? I just- I don’t want to see you relapse.”

“How sweet. Believe me, though,” Klaus chuckles weakly. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then… what _are_ you doing?”

“I’m-” Klaus makes a gesture with one hand at the mausoleum and sighs. May as well just say it. “I spent so long using drugs to crowd out the trauma from all the times dear old Daddy locked me in this thing overnight. It stands to reason that maybe,” Klaus claws his hands in the air in front of him, “ _maybe_ , it works the other way around.”

Luther’s eyebrows crease for a moment before his eyes meet Klaus’s again, his look of confusion shifting into concern. He crosses his arms.

“You’re going to re-traumatize yourself… to distract yourself from your addiction?”

Klaus gives him faux shock.

“Wow! Someone better put you on Jeopardy, you’re good at this!”

“That’s ridiculous, Klaus. I’m not going to let you do that.” He grabs Klaus by the arm and begins to pull. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Klaus jerks his arm away.

“You’re not going to let me? You’re not going to _let_ me?” Klaus is too distressed to be funny, but at least he can be mean. Anything to put a wall between Luther’s searching gaze and Klaus’s soul. Allison and Ben already know the full truth and weight of his pain, isn’t that enough? He doesn’t think he could handle one more. The mausoleum is behind him, but Klaus can still feel the weight of its presence, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The ghosts are louder, here, but at least he can barely hear the cravings over them. “That’s funny. You’re funny. After what you did to Vanya, I thought you’d want to lock me in there yourself!”

Luther’s face goes neutral for a second, but Klaus knows the look in his eyes. He braces for impact.

“You’re a bastard, Klaus.” Luther gets in his space before Klaus is ready, one hand flat on Klaus’s chest and pressing him into the cool marble at his back. He’s pushing a little too hard, though – Klaus’s head cracks hard on the stone and the hand on his chest is constricting his breathing. He wants to laugh. He wants to scream. He wants to hit Luther hard enough to knock that self-righteous head right off those stupidly wide shoulders. He does _not_ want to cry, but the tears betray him anyways and one begins a slow trickle down his cheek.

The thing is, Luther is right about that. Klaus knows he’s a bastard. Knows he’s a coward and a cheat and a thief and a liar and an all-around piece of shit, sometimes. He’s not a piece of shit because he’s an addict, it’s just that he happens to be _both_. Then he and Luther just go ‘round and ‘round, hurting each other because Dad hurt them and no one ever figured out how to deal. Klaus is sick of it. He doesn’t want to say shit like that to his brother, he doesn’t want Luther to push him around. He wants to go home, take a peaceful nap, and quit doing this bullshit song and dance.

“I don’t want to be a bastard,” Klaus’s voice is horrifyingly close to a whimper, but he prides himself on not sobbing. The tears are still coming, though, so he leans into Luther’s hand and hangs his head like that’ll hide his misery. “I don’t want to be a bastard anymore, Luther. I don’t want to be a piece of shit and I don’t want to fight you about this. I don’t- I don’t want it. I want it to go away, I just- I just want to get better.”

The sudden change in tone takes Luther off-guard. He knows that Klaus’s jab about Vanya was right in some ways – it had been a horrible mistake and it was big of Vanya to move past it. But this side of Klaus is someone that Luther hadn’t met in nearly twenty years. They’d been so young when Dad drove all Klaus’s sensitivity into the ground, and Luther hadn’t seen it since. To be fair, he wasn’t always looking, either. He releases Klaus for a second and then pulls him close, wrapping him in a hug that’s just short of too tight. Klaus trembles against him for a moment, then returns the embrace.

“Wow,” Luther muses, “you must be in really bad shape right now right now.” Klaus makes a questioning noise into his shoulder. “You’re hugging me back on purpose.” Luther holds his breath, hoping that he hasn’t said the wrong thing. Klaus’s shake turns into a choked laugh against his chest.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I’ve got you, Klaus. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that this one is a little longer than the rest... the next chapter is, too, but they just got away from me. At least the next chapter makes up for this one by being extra sweet!
> 
> Admittedly, I was a bit surprised by this chapter! I don't hate Luther, but I'm unhappy with a lot of his actions throughout the season, and I didn't know what it would look like when I wrote him. Hopefully I was fair enough to him.
> 
> Also, none of these are beta'd, I just do a bit of proofreading before shipping it out. I've gone back and fixed all the wacky tense changes in previous chapters, though, so there's that.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me to the halfway point!


	7. Chapter 7

  1. _We humbly asked our higher power to remove our shortcomings_



Living on the streets, living from one fix to the next, Klaus had had his fair share of unhappy accidents. It usually involved getting busted for possession or sleeping off a hangover in the wrong alley and waking up to some scandalized yoga teacher kicking him and calling him a junkie as she takes the trash out. On a few frightening occasions, it had involved Fentanyl. That’s not to say that he hadn’t seen a few happy accidents, though – furtive deals where he walked away only to find that the dealer had handed him an extra baggie. Maybe getting kicked out of an alley by an angry yoga teacher to discover a new soup kitchen with better coffee. But this? This is the happiest accident of all.

“Dave?”

“Klau- Klaus?!”

“Dave!” Klaus shouts elation and runs to his lover before remembering that here, in the graveyard, is probably not the best place to be loud about speaking to people who don’t exist. He doesn’t care, though. It’s Dave. He looks exactly like he had the last time they’d been together, down to the hole blown in his chest, but Klaus only sees the man he’d gone to war for. He doesn't see the war. “How are you here?”

“Klaus, I’m here. This is- I’m here, love.”

“I know! But how- oh.” Klaus catches sight of the small headstone where they’re standing, recognizes the name on it. It matches the name stamped on the dog tags around his own neck. “You’re… here. Yay.” Klaus gives tiny jazz hands.

“Yeah.” Dave gives him the briefest of sad smiles. “But now you’re here, too. You’re not..?”

“No, no,” Klaus waves the question off. “Just visiting.”

“You come here often, soldier?” Dave smirks, and Klaus can’t help but laugh at the bad joke. But then, how to answer the question? He’s been coming here for months, finding new ghosts and helping them come to rest. It helps him stay sober, helps him develop control over his powers, helps him – as Dad would have said – be the master of his own life. Dave gives him a look when Klaus hesitates to answer.

“Well…”

“And here I thought we spent ten months calling you Ouija just for fun,” Dave chuckles. “You always were my favorite weirdo.”

Klaus shakes his head in disbelief. Even after all this time and all they went through, he can’t believe that Dave still looks at him so softly. It’s not like the Vietnam War was short on heroin, and it’s not like Klaus was going to say no to anything passed his way at the time. The war was full of bodies, full of the dead and Klaus did his best to stay pumped full of anything to keep them at bay. Dave had been party to some of Klaus’s highest highs and, when the drugs ran out, his lowest lows. Still, Dave loves him anyways.

“ _I_ was your favorite? Please, Jeremiah was a pretty choice weirdo, himself. Plus,” Klaus gestures at himself, “he spent about 75% less time strung out than I did, back then.” He sits down gently by Dave’s headstone, and the soldier sits beside him, their arms only centimeters apart.

“Well, yeah, I guess Jeremiah could be described as 'choice' and a 'weirdo' but,” they share a laugh at that, “nothing compared to you, Klaus. I don’t even know how to begin describing you.”

“It’s your lucky day!” Klaus reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a small spiral notebook. “I’ve made a list. Would you like me to read it to you?”

Dave tilts his head and smiles at Klaus. “Sure.”

“Shall we start with the good news…” Klaus flips dramatically through a few pages of the notebook, “or the bad news?”

“You’re _all_ good news, babe.” Klaus fixes him with a mock reproving stare.

“What was our rule about lying?”

“Fine, fine,” Dave relents. “I love the bad news about you just as much as the good news.”

Klaus looks around – the immediate area is empty; any potential bystanders having moved on. Hah, moved on, like the dead! Good joke. He focuses on Dave for a moment, pressing his powers just enough that Dave can be felt, but not quite seen. Then, like he’s been dreaming of doing since the moment the briefcase took Klaus back to 2019, he rests his head on Dave’s shoulder and heaves a heavy sigh. If his practice with Ben is any indication, they should have a good hour until Klaus wears out.

“Start with the bad news, it is.” Klaus flips back a page in the notebook. “Hmm… lazy, cowardly,” Dave scoffs and shakes his head, “dense, I’m a liar, a bastard,”

“Wait,” Dave waves a hand in front of Klaus.

“A selfish thief,”

“Klaus, stop.” This time, Dave knocks the notepad out of Klaus’s hands. “Stop it. What kind of list is this?”

“I’m doing the 12 steps, Dave. I’m sober!”

“No, I know, I mean… you’re not any of these things you just listed.”

“Oh, believe me, honey buns. These things are-”

“No, they’re not. Lazy? Cowardly? You got zapped into the middle of a horrific war, and when they handed you a gun you took it. You marched with me for the better part of a year, went all the way to the front lines to be with _me._ ” Dave rests a hand gently on Klaus’s cheek and turns his face so they can look each other in the eye. “Klaus, you were the bravest of all of us.”

“Dave.”

“You’re not dense – you understood strategy better than most. Liar? Not if you could help it.”

“Please, don't.”

“A bastard and a selfish thief, though…” Humor leaks into Dave’s voice. “Well, you are the bastard who stole my heart and kept it all to yourself.” Dave taps Klaus’s nose gently, and Klaus can’t help but smile back.

“Seriously, Dave, sometimes I am these things, I… sometimes I just _suck_.”

“Everyone sucks, sometimes, Klaus, but I _know_ you. You’re not always like that.”

Klaus grabs Dave’s hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss into strong fingers. He wants to take Dave home with him, be strong enough to manifest Dave all the time, wake up every morning next to him. Klaus knows, though, that he can’t. Dave died so long before Klaus was even born that he might never be able to stray far from his own bones, buried as they were.

“Sometimes I _am_ like that.” Klaus swallowed. “I like that you don’t see me like everyone else does. I wish… Fuck, I wish I could be the man you see all the time.”

“Listen, getting rid of your flaws is like playing whack-a-mole. You never finish, you just… keep going.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Klaus hangs his head. “I know. It just gets so exhausting.”

Dave takes Klaus’s face in both hands this time and pulls Klaus into a kiss. When Klaus closes his eyes and leans into it, no one in the world can see Dave kissing him. The kiss is just as gentle and searching as their first, a lifetime ago in another world. Klaus can't breathe, and he feels his heart breaking just a little. Klaus had started to believe they could never have this again, but here they are, and Klaus can't begrudge the tears that well under his eyelids. It’s perfect.

“I’ll help you keep going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far! This chapter was extra sweet to make up for all the suffering that came before, and it was a total blast to write. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to take on a somewhat different format, but I think it's appropriate for the step and I think you'll really like it.


	8. Chapter 8

  1. _We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all._



     Sir Reginald Hargreeves

This is the hardest for Klaus, because a part of him believes that Dad doesn’t deserve amends. That everything Dad did to him makes what he did back acceptable. That’s not the point, though. It’s not about what he feels, it’s about what Reginald felt. If the old monster felt anything at all. Klaus doesn’t count all the shit he stole for drugs after Reginald’s death to be harm – you can’t harm a man that’s already dead – but Klaus had been pawning off things from the house up until the day he was thrown out and forbidden to return. Klaus is pretty sure he could get away with not counting his father on the list, but he does it anyways.

     Pogo

Klaus had been 16 at the time, but he was old enough to know that calling Pogo a “dancing monkey” in a drunken stupor was wrong. He’d never said it again, though he’d made a few other cruel quips throughout the years when Pogo made an effort to speak to Klaus’s substance issues. Pogo hadn’t deserved a single one of them, Klaus knows now. He’d just been doing his best.

     Grace

Klaus counts it in his lucky stars that he’s never directly harmed Grace. Still, he wonders if she felt anything at all as she watched his descent into addiction. More likely than not, Dad had programmed it out of her.

     Luther

His relationship with Luther was more strained than his relationship with any of his other siblings – and Klaus was adult enough to admit that the blame could be shared fairly. Perhaps the worst had been on a mission, their last mission together. Klaus wasn’t high when they arrived at the scene of the hostage situation, but the baggie in his pocket ended up getting more attention than the task at hand. Instead of acting as a lookout, Klaus had wandered off to get high and Luther had paid the price with a nasty wound on the back of his head. It was the last time Luther had trusted him with anything.

     Diego

As kids, Klaus had always wanted to be around Diego. His brother was cool and tough, but he cared about Klaus – and that was something that Klaus always appreciated. Their relationship changed over the years as their lives took drastically different paths, but Diego had always done his best to be there for Klaus and protect him when it counted. As drugs and alcohol took over Klaus’s life, he began to take advantage of that more and appreciate it less, until everything came to a head. Diego was still protecting him to this day, letting the other siblings believe that it was his own fault that he got thrown out of the police academy. Klaus knew the truth, though. Diego had gone just a little too far in protecting his brother, and he’d lost his career for it.

     Allison

Klaus always saw Allison as a shining star. Not in the same way that the rest of the world saw her, but in his own way. When they were kids, she’d shared her nail polish and her clothes with Klaus easily and happily. They’d spent many a night as teenagers under the fairy lights in her room, tipsy, comparing their hopes and dreams for the future. Klaus had been proud of Allison for her success, though he suspected that it wasn’t all fairly earned. Before Vanya had published a tell-all, Klaus had broken the family trust first. Tabloids would pay to hear anything they could about Allison’s childhood from the perspective of a close sibling and Klaus? Well, Klaus would say anything for money, so long as he could get fucked up later.

     Five

To be fair, Five hadn’t been there for the majority of the years Klaus spent chasing his next high. He hadn’t had to watch the years of Klaus damning the consequences of his own actions, just for a fix, so his understanding of Klaus’s addiction was different than the rest of their siblings. Still, Five had shown up one day with information about the end of the world, and Klaus had blown it off. He’d spent half that week fucking around in normal fashion when he could have been finding ways to really help. When Hazel and Cha-Cha had kidnapped him, Klaus did his best to hold out – but in the end, watching them crush his drugs beneath their feet had been more important than protecting Five’s information. He’d told them everything he could, would have told them more, just to make them stop.

     Ben

Poor Ben had had to watch Klaus’s highs and lows for a long time, now. Klaus couldn’t count the number of times Ben had begged him _not_ to do this or that – sometimes it was trading sex for money or drugs, sometimes it was acting as a mule for his dealer in exchange for a discount. Ben had been forced to be present for every single time Klaus overdosed, every time he woke up in the hospital. Every day, Ben had asked Klaus to make better decisions, for Ben’s sake if not for his own, and Klaus every day Klaus had let him down.

     Vanya

Maybe Klaus had never been unkind to Vanya when they were children, and maybe he had been the first to spill family secrets, but Klaus was downright unfair to her after her own book hit the shelves. He’d been in rehab at the time, of course, but she had visited him once and promised to pick him up on his exit date. Vanya wanted to get him lunch, new clothes and socks, and set him up in a hotel for the next few nights. They’d gotten lunch a few times in the years previous, getting along as well as any two Hargreeves siblings could. But then the day came, and Klaus stepped out of Sunny Tomorrows Treatment Center with his bag of belongings in one hand and Extra Ordinary in the other. But when he saw her for the first time since reading the book, Klaus felt betrayal and resentment well in his gut – as if he had any room to judge. All he wanted was to get high and think about anything else. He took a long look at Vanya, standing on the street by a taxi, then turned and walked down the sidewalk alone.

     Dave

Klaus hadn’t dared use the briefcase again once he appeared in 1968. He wasn’t stupid – he knew that he didn’t know how that thing worked. What if it took him sometime and someplace worse? It was best to not touch the thing until he could figure it out, but before he got that far he fell in love with Dave and then it wasn’t that he feared the unknown workings of the briefcase. It was that he feared leaving behind the only person in the world he didn’t think he could live without. He stopped looking at the briefcase at all, didn’t even stop to consider that if he could figure it out, maybe he could take Dave with him to whenever they escaped to. And then it was too late.

     Klaus

Where to start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm no longer trapped inside behind 2 feet of snow, I have work again. It might take an extra day or so for the next chapter to be up. We're almost there, y'all, I promise I won't abandon this.


	9. Chapter 9

  1. _We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others_



“Are you there?”

Klaus is alone in his father’s study for the first time since the old man died, a year ago today. All other amends had been made, with time, but he’s saved this one for last. It’s the one he wants to do least, because Klaus knows how it’s going to turn out. The same way every conversation with dear old Dad turned out, right? Sir Reginald’s presence is stronger here than most other places in the house, even his old bedroom, but Klaus had been struggling with conjuring him for a month now – whether it be from his own fear or his father’s resistance, he didn’t know. He knows it has to happen eventually, though.

“I can’t possibly imagine what you want from me now, boy. Didn’t you bother me enough for a lifetime?” _Ah yes,_ Klaus wants to say, _there’s the charmer I know and love._ For a moment he almost forgets what he’s doing here and speaks his mind, but then Klaus looks down at the note he’d written himself on the desk and remembers. Amends. For all of it. Even if the old codger might not deserve it.

“You’re right, dad.” Klaus speaks the words softly, surprised to hear them in his own voice even though he’s been rehearsing them for a while. “I was a shit son. I lied and I stole, and I treated you almost as horribly as you treated me.”

“Hm,” Reginald scoffs, “I see you’ve gotten better at setting up for begging, at least. Well? Get on with it, Number Four, I don’t have all day. Ask for whatever it is you think I can give you from beyond the grave.”

Klaus swallows his nerves. He’d been pretty awful to Reginald in life, even if he felt like his father deserved it. He’s deeply sorry, now. Not because he regrets how he treated his dad for all those years, but because the way he treated Reginald was a symptom of his addiction and no part of it made him a better person throughout the years – it only served to deepen his bitterness towards his father, as well as his own affliction. Being an asshole to the man had never done Klaus any good. Honestly, being kind to him now probably wouldn’t do much good, either, but it needs to be done.

“I know that the two of us never saw eye-to-eye on anything during your long, illustrious life… but I’d like to think we do, now. I’ve been sober for nearly a year, and I want to say…” Klaus takes another deep breath. This conversation isn’t about him. It’s about his father, and when he’s done, Klaus can walk away from it. “I want to say that I’m sorry for being such a disappointment, and for treating you the way I did, Dad. There’s not much you can give me from where you are, but I’m here to ask for your forgiveness. If you’ll give it.”

The words taste bitter on Klaus’s tongue as he speaks, but he says them anyways. When he’s done, he doesn’t feel any weight lifted off his shoulders. He doesn’t feel magical healing in his chest, like he did after his favor to Diego or his heart-to-heart with Vanya. The quiet hum of craving that lives in the back of his mind is still there, just the same as always, completely unchanged. Klaus stifles disappointment as he waits for his father’s response, trying hard to ignore the flicker of hope from one corner of his heart. A memory of his childhood still lives there, seeking his father’s approval, devastated at every failure, and that memory is watching this moment through wide eyes.

“I’d be inclined to disbelieve your sobriety, Number Four, but I haven’t heard you string together so many coherent words in the last 20 years. That alone leads me to believe that you’re cleaner now than you’ve ever been.” It almost sounds like a veiled compliment, but nothing from the old man’s mouth is ever kind. Klaus wants to kick himself for entertaining even the ghost of hope, unable to keep his face from falling. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You always were ungrateful and pathetic, and I won’t be buying this apologetic act.”

“It’s not-!” Klaus bites his tongue to keep from shouting. “It’s not an act, dad. Believe it or not I am really, truly asking for you to forgive me.”

“And for what purpose?”

“What?”

“What value would it have, me saying as much? Will it change the way you behaved in the past?”

“Well, no.” Klaus starts to push forward, but Reginald ignores him.

“Will it change the way you behave in the future? Does your continued cleanliness depend solely on my forgiveness? What strength could there be in that?”

“No, it doesn’t, but-”

“Then I see no point in granting your wish. Sentiment is weakness as much as substance, Number Four, and I will not watch you succumb to either.”

With that, Klaus feels Reginald’s presence slip away, more distant than he’s ever felt it. It’s replaced with cold emptiness for a moment before rage burns through that space, more rage than Klaus has ever felt in his life, hot with fury and rejection and humiliation and, though he’ll never tell another soul, also full of sadness. Whatever remains of the childhood hopefulness he had is scorched. His tears are hot, too, leaking down his face and dripping onto the note he’d written himself to stay on track. He can’t read through the tears, but he knows he followed the instructions. He didn’t do anything wrong, Klaus knows, but it feels like he did anyways. Klaus doesn’t stifle the first sob that works its way out of his chest, nor any of the cries that follow. He’s earned them.

Klaus stays in the office long after the tears are dry and his breathing returns to normal. He sits in the quiet until moonlight peeks through the glass and he hears a gentle knock. Before Klaus can respond, the study doors inch open and Allison’s concerned eyes meet his through the crack.

“Are you okay? We didn’t want to interrupt you earlier, but you’ve been in here for a while.”

“Peachy,” Klaus doesn’t put any effort into the lie. His voice is as rough as hers when he continues. “I'm just here reminiscing on all the good times I had with my loving father. Would you care to join me in a joyful celebration of life?” He opens welcoming arms. Allison opens the study doors the rest of the way to reveal that she’s not alone. Vanya stands next to her, peeking at Klaus under Allison’s arm. Behind the girls are Luther, Diego, and Five, with Ben in the rear. They’re all looking at him, all of their faces sad. Klaus hates it.

“Can you come out?” He looks at quiet, small Vanya watching him with what can only be described as love. Maybe he doesn't hate it so much. “We’re worried about you.”

“Worried?” Klaus chuckles weakly. “What is this, an intervention? You’re late, by a year.” She smiles at the bad joke, at least.

“Actually, Klaus… we need your help with something.”

“No, I don’t have a phone number for those kind ladies anymore, even though they _are_ a blast at parties.”

Five blinks over to where Klaus is leaning against their father’s desk and puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to need those nice ladies anymore.” He hands Klaus a balaclava. “You’ve had a tough year, especially these last few months. It can’t be easy, trying to make up for everything you’ve done, but you were sincere to all of us. We’ve decided that it’s time for us to make up for the ways we’ve treated you.”

“What do you mean?” Klaus can't even conjure a mental image of what they might be planning.

“Come on, we’re going to jailbreak Dave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I didn't get to write out all the things I wanted to show you, and I suspect that the jailbreak won't make it into this fic after. That said, you can expect some one-shots to follow up after this is done so that we can all bask in Hargreeves Family Love together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter and immediately exclaimed "fucking finally!"
> 
> I'm SO sorry for the long wait, y'all! Chapters 1-9 happened when I was snowed into my house, but then the snow melted and I had two jobs, school (yay, finals!), and a hell of a lung infection. But I'm back! Also, if you haven't yet, I recommend checking out "Robbing the Grave" which is now part of this universe. It takes place between chapters 9 and 10, and explains what Five meant when he said "jailbreak Dave."
> 
> Enjoy!

  1. _We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it._



For as many people there are in the great room, it shouldn’t be this quiet. Klaus has his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself as though it’ll do anything to protect from the chill in the air – but the temperature in the room is fine. There are no blankets to protect from the cold looks of the six people across from him. Having to deal with his living siblings, Klaus can handle, but they’d invited Katie. Dave and Ben are standing nearby, but they aren’t looking particularly sympathetic, either. Everyone’s arms are crossed, every face flat. The worst album cover photo in history.

On the table between Klaus and his family, everything has been cleared off except for three small bags, each containing tiny pills in three different colors.

“Klaus,” Luther is the first to speak. Even after the old man has passed, Klaus thinks, Luther takes his duties as Number One so seriously. Ridiculous. “What are these?”

“Oh, so we’re starting with the dumb questions and working our way up from there?”

“Hey, be nice,” Dave admonishes. “They’re just worried about you.”

“Then they can say it their damn selves, Dave,” he hisses to the corner of the room. His siblings don’t respond to the outburst, but Katie leans her head forward and looks where Klaus was speaking.

“Klaus, we’re just worried about you,” Vanya says. Now it’s Klaus’s turn to look surprised. He looks at Dave, then to Vanya and back again.

“Did she just-?”

“I mean it.” Vanya leans forward on the couch across from him, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’ve been having a hard time lately, and we all-”

“Acting like an ass is more like it,” Luther mutters.

“Oh, really? _I’m_ acting like an ass? Whose fault is that, do you think?” Klaus is too angry to sit. He gets to his feet and points an accusing finger at Luther. “Maybe _I_ wouldn’t be an asshole if _you_ weren’t such an unbearable prick in the first place!”

Luther moves to stand from the couch, but Diego and Allison on either side of him are faster, each putting a hand on one of his arms. Luther lurches forward, but at their touch aborts the motion and sits again. Five, reclining in a chair beside the couch, rolls his eyes. Katie watches in interest, and Klaus can only imagine what’s going through her head. Welcome to Hargreeves family fun, girl.

“You don’t get to blame this on me,” Luther says.

“No, you’re right, it’s not just Luther. It’s you,” Klaus points at Diego, “and you,” Allison, “and you,” Vanya, “and _you_ ,” Five, “too.” Vanya, at least, looks hurt. The rest react in various stages of apathy or frustration. “You five are _so_ intent on making this harder for me than it has to be.”

“That’s not fair, Klaus.” Allison’s looking at him with concern, like she always has, and not an ounce of anger. He wants her to be as angry as he is.

“Nothing’s fair!”

“You’ve been acting… different, lately,” she pushes forward. “Like you used to. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, and you think you’re looking out for me by nosing into my business and going through my shit?” Klaus throws himself back on the couch with a huff, arms crossed. Legs crossed. Putting out as much ‘closed’ body language as he possibly can, in the hopes that they’ll all get the hint and fuck off. It’s not his lucky day.

“Well,” Allison gestures at the baggies on the table, “yeah. You’ve been disappearing for nights on end, sleeping on the streets again, Klaus. We found these in your coat! You shouldn’t have to go through relapse alone.”

“I’m not!”

“I know you have Ben and Dave, but we want to be there too.”

“No, Allison, I mean I didn’t relapse! Sure, ‘Oh, Klaus, addicts are liars, how can we trust you’ but I _didn't_.” Klaus huffs in frustration. “Why should I care if you all believe me, anyways? ‘S not like you care about anything but our reputation.”

If skepticism is worth gold, Klaus just earned himself a fortune. Of course, his ghostly companions know that those bags have been obsessed over but never opened, but Klaus doesn’t expect the rest of his family to believe that. He watches his siblings watch him, each with a distinctly different expression. Katie gives him a thoughtful look, but Klaus can’t meet her gaze. He liked life better before his sponsor and his siblings knew each other well enough to gang up on him. This is what he gets, though, for having invited his family to his first sober birthday. Six months later, he’s paying for it.

“I believe you.”

Klaus almost can’t pick his jaw up off the floor. Luther just said that?

“Am I having a stroke, or..?” Klaus looks to Dave and Ben for an answer, but they just shrug. Katie follows his gaze again, clearly perplexed by everyone else’s complete acceptance of invisible participants in this conversation. Ben’s arms are crossed, he's clearly not amused by the situation.

“Haven’t I told you before that Luther has faith in you?”

“Please, Ben, we all know that was a lie at the time.”

“Come on, Klaus,” Dave interjects. “He’s your brother. Why wouldn’t he love you?”

“You and I,” Klaus laughs, “are going to go over my personal history in better detail at some point.”

“I’m with Luther on this one,” Five says, shifting in his chair, “plus whatever the boys are saying. If Klaus says he didn’t do it, then I’ll trust him.” Allison, Vanya, and Diego all look at each other for a moment before shrugging in agreement. Klaus can’t believe his eyes. After fifteen years of lying and stealing, living on the streets and taking advantage of everyone he could, his siblings are just going to sit there and believe him?

“I’ll just get rid of these, then,” Allison grabs the bags from the table and disappears out of the great room.

Klaus watches her go but doesn’t move a muscle. If he moves, he’ll follow her. He’ll beg her not to throw them out just yet. He’ll tell her that he’s just holding on to them to think about, for the times when it gets really bad, like a baby blanket – comfort, you know? He’s not going to use them, he just likes to know that he could, if he wanted. That the nights he’s spent sleeping in alleys recently were just because he missed pieces of his old life, the friends he made. If he moved, they’d all see how desperate he really is. Klaus doesn’t budge, eyes following Allison until she turns the corner and disappears. When she’s gone, he looks back and catches Katie watching him closely. There's going to be an interrogation later, and they both know it.

The room is silent for a while, until they all hear the tell-tale sound of a toilet flushing down the hall. Allison returns to the room moments late, but she lingers in the doorway and leans against the frame.

“So, you’re all just going to… believe me?” Klaus uncrosses himself and halfway wonders if he’s hallucinating. He didn’t use any of that stuff – and none of it should have caused this sort of reaction – but he’s dumbfounded by the turn of events. If only dad could see them, now.

“You’re right,” Diego says. “You put up with a lot, bro, and I for one can’t know what that shit’s like. So, you’re gonna be pissy and dry relapse? I don’t have room to judge.”

Just like the night Vanya convinced him to get serious about his sobriety, Klaus feels the crush of the real world on him. His family’s been watching him change over the last 18 months, watching him become less miserable and more stable. Watching him get his shit together, for once, after years of bouncing between shelters and alleys and rehab. Seeing him spending the night on the streets again _would_ be worrying, for people who cared about him. And Klaus couldn’t deny it – everyone in this room genuinely cared about him. Even when it didn’t feel like it.

Klaus had spent the last three weeks picking a fight with every one of his siblings, avoiding meetings, sleeping in dumpsters and buying drugs that he didn’t quite have the nerve to use. He'd been going through a personal hell and keeping it to himself. They were doing their best to keep him well.

And he’d just spent all this time shitting on their feelings.

Klaus rests his face in his hands and exhales a long breath.

“Fuck, _I’m_ the asshole.” He doesn’t hear Allison’s approach, but the couch beside him sinks slightly under her weight and she puts a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.

“Klaus, you’re _our_ asshole. We just want you to be okay.” He turns his head enough to see the soft smile on her face and throws a weak smile of his own back.

There's a lot of shit going on, and he knows he'll have to ask for help with it. Ben and Dave aren't the only ghosts he knows by name, and Klaus has been feeling more haunted than usual lately.

He isn’t okay, but he’s going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dry relapse" is the term for when someone falls into the same behavior and patterns that they had before getting sober, without actually relapsing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has mostly been from a Klaus POV, but this chapter is more of Katie's. I feel like she's holding a lot of the wisdom that Klaus needs and it was important to get her perspective here.
> 
> I'm so grateful for all of you for sticking with me this far. I wish I could do something to express my gratitude more fully.

  1. _We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with a higher power as we understood it, praying only for knowledge of its will for us and the power to carry that out._



“Katie?” Klaus’s voice is uncharacteristically soft and quiet – almost fragile. It’s enough to pull Katie completely to wakefulness; of all the sponsees she’s had over the years, Klaus calls her the least. Whenever a sponsee calls her with _this_ voice, though, it means one thing. She blinks the last bits of sleep from her eyes.

“Yeah, Klaus?”

“Can you come get me?” She can hear passing cars in the background, and a bubble of laughter from passers-by. At this time of night – morning, really – he must be downtown to be around that level of activity.

“Yeah, of course.” Katie rolls out of bed and looks for whatever’s nearest her to throw on. “Where can I find you?”

“Juniper and Burnside.” It’s unnerving to hear Klaus like this, like he’s broken. Katie knows that brokenness is a prerequisite for addiction and recovery, but Klaus isn’t the type to express it like this. He’s put so much energy into pretending like his life is all fun and games – but she knows the truth now. She knows about the ghosts, about who Ben and Dave are, has even watched Klaus conjure the two as proof. It has to take a lot to get Klaus feeling _this_ down.

“Yeah, I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

-

Juniper and Burnside is an intersection that Katie knows well. It’s the southeast end of the bar district, right where it begins fading into industrial buildings along the waterline. The docks are a half mile south. For people using, it sits right on the edge of access to drugs and a quiet, private place to nod. When Katie arrives, Klaus is alone and perched on the curb, talking to the air. Not the air, Katie guesses. Ghosts. She notices the distinct lack of jewelry around his neck, including the pendant with Dave’s ashes. Klaus must have wanted to be as alone as possible when he came out here.

“Klaus.” He doesn’t hear her. “Klaus!”

“Shut up, shut up everyone. Jesus, you all are so fucking loud.” He looks at her with the loosest smile she’s ever seen. Katie meets his eyes first, but his pupils seem normal. A good first sign. “Hey, Katie. Fancy meeting you here.” His eyes dart to something on her left for a moment before returning to her. The smile becomes decidedly more forced.

“What’s going on, Klaus?”

“Well, I’m starting to think some aspects of this… getting sober thing… aren’t really working out for me.”

Katie sits next to him on the curb and thinks for a moment.

“You’ve got just over 18 months, Klaus. What stopped working?”

“Well, it’s this whole ‘God’s Will’ thing, you see…” Klaus trails off, staring at something where Katie only finds nothing. Katie is dying to see what he does – whatever’s distracting Klaus is clearly breaking his heart. She can see the tears welling in his eyes. Klaus clears his throat and stares at his own feet. “Anyways, I don’t really think I can do it. You deserve to know.” This, at least, is something Katie knows how to approach. Spooky powers or no.

“So, this is what had your family worried. Well, what isn’t working for you anymore?”

“The whole thing! Christ. If I’m helping people who’ve died to…” he waved a hand vaguely, “move _on_ , well, that’s supposed to be a good thing. It’s just… It’s just that I can’t handle that, all the time. _Shut up_ , you,” he hisses to the side. “This conversation does _not_ involve your input.”

“Involve whose input, Klaus?”

The look he gives her is hollow, all the way down.

“It was so much easier helping strangers.” He sighs. “Dave and Ben aren’t the only ghosts I know by name, you know.”

It makes sense, from what Katie knows of him. Klaus had been effectively homeless for the better part of the last decade at least. When you’re homeless and using, well, Katie knows how many people don’t make it. Winters up here can be savagely cold. Besides that, who knows how many people he’d watched overdose over the years – especially since Fentanyl showed up on the scene.

Katie knows how many friends Klaus must have lost because she’s lost just as many, in her own time. Lovers, friends, faces you saw at the soup kitchen with names you never learned, eventually they all started disappearing. Sometimes you didn’t know who was dead and who simply moved on. But now, substance free and with full access to his powers? Katie let her heart break for Klaus just a little. He was probably getting answers he never wanted, out here.

“You’re right,” Katie admits, “that sounds like a pretty raw deal. You probably shouldn’t do it anymore.”

He looks at her with wide eyes.

“What? I don’t think you’re supposed to say that _you_ think I should use again, too. Isn’t that kind of… the opposite of our relationship?”

“I’m not saying you should use, Klaus.”

“But you said-”

“It’s not like your choices are to either keep hitting your head against a wall or get high again. There’s another option.”

“Great. Do tell,” Klaus lays back on the sidewalk and closes his eyes. His arms hang loose at his sides, fingers tapping a rapid beat on the corner of the sidewalk.

“The 11th step is an encouragement to change things up. Improving contact with your higher power doesn’t always mean leaning in on what you’ve been doing. If something isn’t working for you, throw that shit away and find something else.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he turns his head just enough to meet Katie’s steady gaze. “You’re saying that helping ghosts, the way I’ve been serving the will of my higher power for the last year or so, is something I shouldn’t do anymore?”

“Would it be easier if I wrote it in crayon?” He snorts with laughter at this, but sits up. Katie’s relieved to see he’s looking marginally less distressed and more curious.

“I know she’s funny,” he tells someone, “yeah. Well, if you wanted to meet her then you shouldn’t have fucking _died_ then.” Klaus looks at her again, sheepish smile on his face.

“Let’s go for breakfast.” Katie stands and pulls Klaus up by an extended hand. Her car is just down the street, and she makes sure that Klaus remembers to buckle his damn seat belt before she starts the car. He’s looking in the rear-view mirror, making faces at people Katie can’t see, for half a mile or so until she makes it all the way north of the bar district. She’s headed towards an all-night diner close enough to his house that she’s pretty sure he’ll know it. At some point, he stops muttering reprimands to ghosts in the back seat and remembers that they’d been having a conversation.

“So, wait, did I miss the part where I stop turning my life over to the will of my higher power?”

“Not quite. Klaus, I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Oh, goody. Because that’s not the part of me that’s feeling really blown right now.”

“Okay, well hold on to your knickers.” She turns on her blinker and takes a left when the light turns green.

“Consider them held.” Katie’s had this talk with sponsees before. Every addict likes to believe that their situation is unique; in some ways, they are, but most of it all boils down to the same experience. Isn’t that what gets them in the rooms together, shared experience? Just because Klaus has been communing with his higher power by speaking to ghosts doesn’t mean his spiritual troubles are so different than anyone else’s.

“Why do you think that what you’ve been doing for these ghosts is what your higher power wills for the rest of your life?”

“Well, because I’m the person who can do it.”

“And all things that _can_ be done, _should_ be done?”

“Well, no, but I’m helping them.”

“Uh huh. And this helping has become triggering for you, threatening your sobriety.” She parks her car in the lot of an all-night breakfast place, but neither one moves to get out.

“Yeah, Katie, that’s kind of why we’re talking at 2 am on a Thursday.”

“So, you believe that God’s will for you, God’s plan to uphold your sobriety, is to make you spend dedicated time doing something that hurts you and _threatens_ that sobriety.”

Katie counts down in her head to the light bulb moment. _Five, four, three, two…_ Klaus unbuckles his seat belt.

“Well-” Klaus turns to look at her sharply. _One._

“Well..?”

“Holy shit,” Klaus grabs Katie by her shoulders. There’s nothing better than the way someone’s face changes when the switch finally flips, when the elevator opens at the top floor. “Katie, _you are so smart._ Wait! What?” He lets her go and gets out of the car, taking three long paces before he spins on one heel and returns to the car. He leans down just far enough to poke his head through the open passenger door. “No, this is worse.”

“Why is it worse?” Katie can’t stifle her laughter, but she unbuckles and gets out of the car as well. For a moment they stand on either side, staring at each other over the top of her old white sedan. Klaus is practically glowing – not blue with power, but from the inside. It’s a nice change from the way she found him.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore!” Klaus throws his hands into the air, looking for all the world like he just learned the sky is green and grass is blue. Katie supposes there are worse ways to have your world turned upside down.

“So? You’ve figured out something that you’re _not_ supposed to do. Now, _don’t_ do that.” She shuts the driver’s door and Klaus follows suit on his side a moment later, then falls into step beside her as they walk to the door. She’s half a head taller than he is – yes, really – and uses every inch of that height when she looks at him to keep talking. “Klaus, maybe you should stop focusing on what you think _is_ your power’s will for you and start trying to figure out what _isn’t._ When you walk away from those things, by process of elimination, you’ll walk towards what you’re supposed to be doing. Even if you don’t know what it is.”

Klaus rests his hand on the door and looks at her, hesitant.

“This is great and all, super enlightening, but what does this mean for me? What am I supposed to do now?”

“ _Right_ now?”

“Uh, yeah,” he pulls the door open. Katie follows behind him.

“Decide on what you want for breakfast. Maybe you can try something new. What about eggs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the research I did for this chapter led to me making a personal breakthrough of my own, which was pretty cool. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! One more to go, and then we'll see what happens next.
> 
> If you have requests, I'm 110% happy to hear them!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, guys. The final chapter. Thanks for sticking along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy!

  1. _Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs._



“Good morning, bed bug.” Dave is propped up on one elbow beside Klaus in bed. It  _is_ a good morning – one of many they’ve been having lately. Klaus thinks he could get used to this.

“Bed bugs are gross, Dave. I’m not gross.” Klaus wrinkles his nose and buries himself deeper in the blankets, eyes pressed shut.

“No,” Dave agrees. He yanks the blankets away from Klaus completely and presses a gentle kiss to his nose. Klaus opens his eyes at this and glares into the light of the room. “You’re absolutely filthy.”

Klaus huffs a laugh, pushing Dave’s shoulder until his lover tips backwards on the bed. Blankets now abandoned, he crawls on top of Dave and wraps himself around the man like a spider monkey. His hands are glowing the faintest of blues. Dave grunts at the sudden weight on his chest and wraps his arms around Klaus, then chuckles softly.

“You’re right, ‘bed bug’ is totally inaccurate. You’re a cuddle bug.” Klaus hums in confirmation and nods against Dave’s chest.

In the war, they’d never had the freedom to have this kind of intimacy. They’d courted each other in stolen moments behind tents and Jeeps, hidden corners of bars, furtive glances and smiles when no one else was looking too closely. Klaus had returned to 2019 alone and shell-shocked and, even when he’d begun his journey of recovery, he’d wished every night that he’d be able to wake up next to Dave.

His love for Dave had developed before they could really touch each other, save a kiss here or there, but Klaus never had any doubts. And he’d been right. Stealing Dave’s bones and keeping his cremains in the house was the kind of crazy only a Hargreeves would get into, but it worked. Now they get to spend their mornings cuddling, Klaus able to push his powers past noon if he’s prepared for it – and though all is not quite right with the world, their mornings are pretty damn ideal.

“This is so…” Klaus raises his head enough to meet Dave’s eyes.

“Perfect?”

“I love when you finish my sandwiches, babe.”

“Sentences.”

“Those, too.” Klaus kisses Dave on the lips gently. “I wish we could stay here forever, but…”

“Are you ready for the big day?” Dave angles his head so the two can make eye contact. They share a long look before Klaus sighs and rolls off of Dave, sitting on the edge of the bed. Dave curls around him. “You can do this, babe.”

“I know,” Klaus laughs, “that’s the strange part. Two years ago, if anyone had told me that someday I’d be a potential sponsor, I’d have laughed all the way to my dealer.”

“And yet, here you are.” Dave runs one finger gently down the back of his lover’s arm, from shoulder to elbow. “How are you feeling?”

“Like today’s a good day to assert my deep love of mesh,” Klaus says, scooping a relevant top off the ground as he stands. “What do you think?” He turns and models the shirt – only a crop top, really – for Dave. Dave takes a long, appreciative look at Klaus from head to toe, then smirks.

“I think nipples might be a bit much for your first impression. And maybe put on some pants.”

“You never know how to have fun.” Klaus pouts.

“I know very well how to have fun,” Dave stands and crosses to Klaus, putting a both hands on his waist and giving Klaus a chaste kiss on the lips, “as you well know. But I don’t think today is supposed to be _that_ kind of fun.” Klaus gives a dramatic sigh and tosses the top over his shoulder.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Mm, and you know I love to hear it.” Dave walks to their closet and pulls something off a hanger, throwing it at Klaus without even a backwards glance. Klaus catches it and laughs – it’s a black tank top with “I <3 Dead People” on it. In the end, Klaus settles for a somewhat conservative look: black jeans, the tank, and his old military jacket. Hopefully, not too threatening for a first meeting with a potential sponsee.

Potential sponsss. It’s a big idea and a bigger responsibility, one that Katie had been hinting at for a little while now. At first, she’d just offhandedly mentioned that he’d made a lot of progress and had wisdom to share with others. Then she’d brought up the S-word, which he’d promptly backed away from. Klaus? Giving advice and guidance to someone else? Had she met him? But of course, she had, and Katie’s perceptiveness was almost a superpower in and of itself.

“No, no way in _hell_ am I sponsor material,” Klaus had insisted one day. “I can barely keep my own life together on a good day.”

“Stop telling the universe lies about yourself,” she’d said. “We all have bad days, sure, but you’re doing incredibly well. You know how I know?”

“Do enlighten me.”

“Because yesterday was your father’s birthday and you didn’t call me. Klaus, your father has historically been a _major_ trigger for you, and last year you were a wreck. What did you do yesterday?”

“I…” Damn, she's on to something. He hadn’t even thought to be pissed off about it until halfway through the day, at which point… “I had lunch with my sisters, and then Ben and I saw a movie, and then I took a bath.”

“Did you think about using?”

Well, now that she mentions it…

“See, Klaus? You’re thriving even on bad days.”

Katie, right as always.

-

So now Klaus is sitting in the back corner of a café, coffee in hand, looking for a tall, dark-skinned man about his own age with teal hair. Katie had called Klaus two days ago, saying that she met someone at a meeting that Klaus _really_ should get to know, that she thinks Klaus would be able to help him out. She’d avoided the S-word, but it was obvious she thought it was time. How could Klaus say no to at least meeting the guy?

He’s easy to spot from a distance, and Klaus gives him a wave from the back of the shop. The man orders tea and weaves his way through the tables. Sir Reginald had taught Klaus his manners, of course, so he stands to greet the newcomer and shake his hand. He’s about to introduce himself when the stranger speaks.

“You must be Klaus,” the man smiles at him and takes a seat. Klaus follows suit. “I’m Adam.” Adam’s voice is soft, almost too quiet, and Klaus finds himself leaning closer to hear. “Katie said that you could, uh… help me. With my situation. I know that it’s… unusual.” He decides that this Adam guy is a little weird, but hey, Klaus knows a thing or two about weird.

“Oh, well,” Klaus gestures loosely and tries to stifle his confusion. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, not quite as unusual as you might think.” Hadn’t this guy met Katie at an AA meeting? Hell, hadn’t he been downtown after 10pm? Addiction is more common than most people would like to admit.

“I just mean that I’ve never met anyone _quite_ like myself, you know.”

Uh.

“Well,” Klaus squints at his coffee. Katie sure knew how to pick ‘em. “I guess it is a bit different for everyone?” He looks Adam in the eye and tries hard to ignore Dave’s baffled look at an adjacent, empty table. Klaus knows he has no room to judge on strange people, so he smiles and does his best. What would Katie do? Think, Klaus. What would Katie do? “Tell me more about yourself, then.”

“Like… when it started? Or, how it affects me? How it works?”

How it _works?_

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Okay, well, I guess it started when I was eight or so.” Klaus bites his tongue to keep from whistling, but he can’t school the shocked expression off his face. That’s so _young._ “It was just… one day, you know, it happened. And I couldn’t make it stop. At school, at home, all the time. I couldn’t keep it out of my head. And yeah, it could be really helpful, but it fucked with my head. You know?” Klaus nods, wide-eyed, and shoots a look at an equally astounded Dave, now leaning on the table next to them. Klaus is following, mostly, but he feels like he’s missing a key piece of information. “Anyways, I kinda leaned into it as I got older, and I got used to it. Then one day I discovered that drinking made it work better, and that was the beginning of a very long problem.”

“Hold up a second,” Klaus interjects, pressing a finger against his bottom lip, “do you mind if I ask a _really_ stupid question?”

“Go for it,” Adam smiles. “I don’t think there are any stupid questions when it comes to… you know.”

“Yeah,” Klaus draws the word out. “The thing is, I feel like I _don’t_ know. Are we-?”

“Oh!” Adam laughs suddenly. “Oh my God. You were about to ask if we were talking about my – my alcoholism.” Klaus nods suspiciously, taking a sip from his coffee. “No, not at all.” Now Klaus is totally lost. Katie had called about this guy. They met at a meeting. What else could- “No, Katie thinks you can somehow help me harness my ability to see the future.”

It would have been totally ridiculous, except this Adam guy had somehow stood and come around the table in the seconds before Klaus chokes on his coffee, sputtering a mess across the table. Adam pounds a hand on his back until Klaus can breathe again, then re-takes his seat.

“You can-?”

“See the future, yes. Only about fifteen seconds in advance. More, when I drink, and I used to go to Atlantic city and make my living at the casinos. Pretty soon, I felt like I couldn’t do it at all when I wasn’t drinking, but I want to learn how. Katie thought you’d be able to point me in the right direction, so I assumed...” Adam isn't so quiet anymore, now that they're close to getting on the same page. He looks considerably less nervous.

“What the hell?” This time it’s Dave speaking, and Klaus didn’t believe it was possible for him to look more baffled than he had before. Klaus feels about the same. It’s like the world has suddenly been turned upside-down, and his stomach isn’t feeling too great about it. “I feel like _one_ of the three of us should have seen that coming, and it sure as hell isn’t you or I.”

Klaus can only respond with a short, shocked laugh. He recovers quickly, though, and puts up what he hopes is a smile.

Adam looks at Klaus curiously. “Did she really not tell you?”

It’s a rare day when Klaus is speechless. Here he is, though, in a café in the middle of his own city where another powered person has been presumably living for the last 30 or so years. Right under Reginald’s nose for all those years without being discovered. What must Adam’s life had been like? Hadn’t he realized he was like the Academy kids? Did he ever try to find them? Klaus has too many questions and no words for them all.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you knew.” Adam smiles a _lot_ , and it’s a charming smile, but Klaus is still feeling vaguely sick to his stomach. “No wonder you were talking so weird at the beginning there.”

“ _I_ was talking weird?” Klaus manages. “ _You_ were talking weird! You’re _still_ talking weird.”

“Oh, I-” Adam looks at the tea in his hands and removes the bag, setting it gently on the saucer. He shrinks into his seat by a centimeter, and Klaus feels guilty, but... “I was sure you’d believe me. Katie seemed to think you knew people… like me. Like, maybe you knew those hero kids from the early 2000’s or something.”

 _Boy, do I,_ Klaus wants to say, but he refrains. It's been a few years since the Harold incident, but the Hargreeves siblings are still slow to trust. Klaus isn’t ready to buy it. Not yet. He glances at Dave for a second, who seems to understand and nods in return. Adam can’t see the hint of a blue glow from under the table, where Klaus is flexing his powers _just_ enough for any nearby ghosts to move objects on the physical plane.

Dave goes to shove Adam’s tea off the table, but Adam manages to get a hand on it just in time. He must feel the push from Dave because he looks at the cup with furrowed brows. A few drops of tea slosh over the side from the human-ghost interaction.

“How did you do that?” Adam is looking at Klaus now, awe and relief plastered all over his face. “Do you have powers, too? Do you have telekinesis?”

Oh, boy.

“I… really think you need to meet my family. They, well,  _we_  can help.”

It isn’t quite the same as sponsoring. Still – teaching another powered person how to embrace their abilities all while avoiding substance use? There’s no one on the planet more qualified than Klaus and his siblings. And if he knows one thing for sure, Klaus is sure they’ll do a damn sight better than their father had. The past few years of gaining sobriety and healing his family relationships had taught Klaus skills he knew he was capable of passing on, skills that Adam was going to need. Klaus doesn't feel completely ready to step into a position of guidance, but he knows that his work with the steps have put him in a better position to do so than ever before. Then, Klaus says something about his family that he never quite imagined saying, but still knows to be true.

“You’re in good hands.”


End file.
